


Is it a crime?

by AxisMage



Series: The Seasons through Opal [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Bruce is a surgeon, Dick is a nurse, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Sex, very brief - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 04:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxisMage/pseuds/AxisMage
Summary: Wally's concern is touching, it really is, but it's not necessary. No matter what Wally or Bruce believe, Dick knows where he stands.That stand is probably something Bruce is not ready to accept.





	Is it a crime?

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of the Opal series. This whole thing was inspired by a lot of Sade's songs, especially "is it a crime". I don't know, the songs just seem to fit these two perfectly. 
> 
> Thank you to Lorelain for betaing this and saving me from the hell that is proofreading. Any mistake that remains is mine and mine alone.

Dr. Wayne has a reputation. Or rather, he has two. Both reputations were born when he worked in Gotham and from what Dick has discovered so far, the flurry of rumors have followed him here to Opal. Other nurses and physicians gossip about Dr. Wayne’s most recent actions: his cases, his surgeries, several other aspects of his life. He can hear them when they talk on the halls or when they’re in the locker room.  Dick tunes them out sometimes, but for the most part, he listens and takes mental notes. Later, he’s able to compile the rumors into two categories, based off of which reputation they pertain to. The existing rumors change from week to week, or new ones pop up altogether. It’s interesting, to say the least.

“On the personal side, people continue to speculate which family member you’d lost and at what age to cause you to build up such high emotional barriers. I heard some have been speculating since you arrived in Opal. They say it has to be your parents or a lover, but no one is sure yet,” Dick informs.

 He waits a couple of heartbeats, then continues. “Last week the scandal on the professional side was the fact you don't drink coffee from the doctor´s lounge anymore when you´re at the hospital. There was a betting pool going on. A part of the staff thought you’d finally given in to your well-hidden paranoia. The other part bet it has nothing to do with paranoia, and you’re just that arrogant of an asshole and can’t tolerate the thought of sharing the same coffee as commoners,” Dick finishes, stretching his arms over his head and grunting. Once he hears his bones snap, he pulls the smooth and silky bedsheets up to his chest, nuzzles the round and fluffy pillow. He’s suddenly drowning in the fresh and woody scent of Bruce’s aftershave. It’s still the same one he used back in Gotham: the unnecessarily expensive – in Dick’s opinion – Musgo Real. Dick can’t believe he still remembers the name, or that he even learned it in the first place.

Bruce makes a noncommittal sound. “What about this week?”

“Oh, you were actually listening? Colored me surprised, Ross.”  Bruce frowns upon hearing the nickname, and Dick settles into the soft mattress some more with a smirk of satisfaction. He closes his eyes, tries to enjoy the warmth and sheer luxury of the expensive sheets and mattress.

“So you’re not going to tell me?”

 “You honestly want to know?”

“Didn’t you use to give me the weekly reports without me needing to prompt you?”

At that, Dick rolls his eyes because, indeed, long before they started working together at Gotham General, he had already formed the habit of enjoying Bruce’s aftershave and sharing with him the gossip of the week. At first he’d done it to annoy Bruce or get some reaction out of him. After the first year, it became something they talked over coffee, while they drove somewhere, even after sex. Not that Bruce ever cared for people’s opinion or did anything to change his attitude, or that he listened to Dick for more than a few minutes.

Dick is surprised Bruce remembers the small detail, though, let alone that he asks about it. Bewildered and amused, Dick opens his eyes and sits on the bed. He presses his back against the bedframe, then lets the blankets pool around his hips. He stares at Bruce as he paces in front of the bed, tablet in his hand. He taps against it a couple of times, glances at Dick. “What?”

Dick holds out a hand. “I'm not telling you anything if you’re working or licking your wounds over Rachel again.”

 “… Excuse me?”

“I am not giving you this week’s gossip if you’re looking at a brain scan or at an article about Rachel’s latest scandal.”

Bruce’s frown deepens, and he opens his mouth, probably to complain or admonish him. It’s not like Dick doesn't know or remember the name of Bruce’s on-and-off girlfriend. It’s kind of hard to miss Selina Kyle, after all, but with how many breaks they take, Dick had decided to change their names to fit their dynamic. Dick wonders why Bruce even bothers to get mad when he knows it’ll only make Dick use the incorrect names even more.

Bruce either reads his mind or is finally admitting the whole names issue is a lost battle. Whatever the reason, he sighs, then speaks. “Has there been a new one since the charity event two weeks ago? All I knew was that Selina had gotten a senator involved.”

Dick gives the tablet a pointed look. Bruce rolls his eyes, then turns the tablet so the screen is visible to where Dick is. As soon as he focuses on it, he catches a glimpse of picture after picture of food. Expensive appetizers and main courses, to be specific.

“Oh. Are we ordering in?” Dick asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Unless you want to cook something for dinner?”

 “Oh, I’m sure the both of us took at least two cooking courses since we left Gotham. We could cook dinner together. You have a fire extinguisher, right?”

“That’s why I pulled up the menus in the first place.”

 “Have you chosen anything yet?”

“No. I was trying to find their decent items, but nothing seems fitting, and this is the third website I visit.”

Dick bursts out laughing. “Why am I not surprised?” He shoves the covers off his lap, crawls across the bed to reach the sleek and black bathrobe thrown over a bedside table. A small pang of nostalgia hits him as he puts it on and wraps the sash tight around his waist. While the color is different, the robe is made of the same material and smells the exact same as the navy one Dick last used. How long had it been since then? Two, nearly three years?

“Why don't you go and take a shower while I take care of the food and get us some drinks in the process?” he asks, approaching Bruce and taking the tablet from his hands. He leans in closer, kisses Bruce’s chin slightly, then pulls away and saunters towards the door. “I’ll shower when you’re done.”

He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he makes his way down the hall towards the penthouse’s open kitchen. The curtains are drawn, and Dick taps the screen a few times, waits until the site tells him his order has been placed. Later, he goes over to the windows and pulls the curtains open all the way. He’s greeted by Opal’s city view at night, and he drinks in the sight of the glittering buildings and full moon for a few seconds, then walks back to one of the many counters.

By the time Bruce steps into the kitchen in fresh pajama bottoms, Dick is dangling a glass of… is that orange juice? between his fingers. He’s sitting cross-legged in front of one of the windows, doesn't turn around even when he hears Bruce’s bare feet against the floor.

“Why on Earth do you keep your windows closed? You did it back home too, even though you had the best view of Gotham, and now of Opal,” Dick says. He hears Bruce putter around the kitchen, hears the leather creak as he sits on one of the couches behind him. Once Bruce is settled behind him, Dick turns around and knocks back some more orange juice, then he speaks.

“This week, the rumors regarding your professional life say that you’re only starting to take nearly dead patients because you’ve started the next phase in your plan to become God.” Bruce’s eyebrows rise up to his hairline, but Dick keeps talking. “They also suspect you fired your last assistant because she found out about your divine plan and wanted to report you to the chapel.”

Bruce’s lips twitch the slightest bit. He takes a sip of his own glass, seems to swallow his amusement with it. “What else?”

“That’s it when it comes to your job. When it comes to Bruce Wayne, a newspaper talked to Rachel a few days ago and they published an article giving some juicy details about your umpteenth breakup. People at the hospital are saying that you proposed for the fifth time and she ran away. Again.”

“Fifth time? That is oddly specific.”

Dick snorts. He finishes off his glass of juice. “Did you, though?” he asks. It’s not the first time they have this particular bit of conversation. Once upon a time, waiting for an answer had made Dick nervous, anxious and bitter. Now, he has no problem feeling amused and waiting. His little half-smile is proof of that.

Bruce studies him, apparently put off by said smile. He seems to be scrutinizing Dick’s expression, waiting for it to crack. When a few minutes go by and Dick is still smiling and meeting his eyes, Bruce looks away. “That rumor resurfaces every couple of years. You know it’s never true. Selina sees no appeal or point in marriage, and I am not marriage material.”

Dick drops his gaze to his glass, allows another tiny smile to curve his lips. Not marriage material. He wonders where Bruce got those words from… oh wait, he already knows.

He’s saved from saying something else due to the doorbell ringing.

Bruce makes a move to get up, but Dick beats him to it. He rushes back into the bedroom, comes back with Bruce’s unlocked phone and checks the app.

“Food’s here,” he announces. He drops the phone in Bruce´s outstretched hand, then heads for the door.

Dinner is silent, for the most part. Once, the silence had scared and bothered Dick. He’d felt uncomfortable, and like he should start a conversation. His attempts had fallen flat on most occasions, and the last time Dick had needed to try had been over two years ago, which is why he doesn't bother to try this time, or last week, when he’d first visited Bruce’s new apartment.

He knows better now. He understands Bruce a lot more now, and sadly… he doesn't care as much now.

Dick has eaten most of expensive meat and veggies by the time Bruce puts his fork and knife down and clears his throat, looking like he needs to say something. Dick pops another forkful of snow peas into his mouth, allows his face to show some surprise, then raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Are you free this weekend?”

… Huh. He cuts a piece of steak, brings it to his lips. He chews slowly, swallows, then waits a bit more. “Depends. What’s up?”

“I was invited to Metropolis’ Biomedical Forum Gala.”

“For the tenth year in a row?”

“Ninth.”

“Details, details.”

Bruce’s lips twitch. He then rubs his palm over his face. “As I was saying, I got invited to the gala and got an extra invitation for my plus one. Even if we were together I wouldn’t bring Selina. It’d bore her to no end, and since we have been… reacquainted and you came with me twice before…” His voice trails off, and Dick knows that’s all the explanation and/or invitation he’s going to get.

“The whole weekend, or one day?” he asks.

“We leave Friday night, return either Sunday morning or afternoon. Gala’s Saturday night.”

“So the whole weekend.” Dick laces his fingers underneath his chin. Three days off, or two, if he worked Friday morning and afternoon. It was Monday, so he could pull a twenty-hour shift from Thursday to Friday and pile up extra hours tomorrow and Wednesday. He could even switch shifts with somebody…

“I could talk to your chief nurse,” Bruce says, interrupting his train of thought.

Dick gives an automatic snort. “Are you going to tell her I need the weekend off to go on an extended date with you?”

Bruce’s shoulders tense.  “Are you going as my date?”

“I’d rather you let me fish my way out of this alone, but if you talk to her, the date excuse isn’t going to fly. What about me being your temporary assistant? I’m pretty sure they all know we worked together in Gotham anyway.”

Bruce tenses up even more. He looks like he wants to say something, probably to contradict Dick, but he doesn't know how. Dick waits for a replay. When the minutes tick by and Bruce doesn't speak again, he finishes off his food and takes both their dishes to the sink. He washes, dries and puts them away, turns around to see Bruce right where he’d left him. He looks… troubled.

“Bruce?”

Silence. Hesitation. A nod. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“I’ll prepare her then.” Dick rolls his shoulders, rubs his lower back. After sleeping on the couch for nearly three months, allowing Bruce to fuck him against the carved headboard hadn’t been the best idea. Not that he regrets it, but God, he needs to move into his own place already. The couple of hours he’s spent in Bruce’s bed have been glorious, so glorious Dick almost asks to stay the night.

Almost.

“I´ll go take a shower, then I’m heading out. I have an early shift,” he informs. Bruce’s shoulders tighten, but he doesn't speak. Dick smiles at him, then leaves the kitchen and goes back to Bruce’s bedroom.

Twenty minutes later, he’s zipping up his hoodie and hefting his backpack over his shoulder. Bruce waits by the door with his arms crossed over his chest, a frown on his face. Dick glances around the apartment one last time, joins him by the door.

“Thanks for having me,” he says softly. He raises a hand, presses it against a stubbly cheek. He isn't sure why he even did it, but when Bruce leans in to press their lips together, he doesn't pull back.

Bruce’s words are nothing but a mere whisper when the kiss ends. “I can drive you. Tomorrow.”

An invitation. A request. The perfect opening. Five words that threaten to open the floodgates of memories Dick cherishes but no longer clings to. It is also a chance to rest properly, in an actual bed, a chance to feel refreshed enough to face his shift tomorrow.

“Wouldn’t want to bother you,” is Dick’s answer. He calls the elevator and is on his way down before Bruce has a chance to respond. The heat is stifling the moment he walks out of the buildings.

 _Ah_ , he thinks to himself. _Of course._ How had he forgotten it was summer already, or at least the hot, sweaty, annoying beginning of summer.

Grumbling to himself and unwilling to go back to the loud house and the stupid and hellish couch, Dick decides to stay at the small hotel at the corner of Bruce´s street. It has air conditioning, at least.

Wally scolds him on Wednesday as they have an extremely late lunch in the main cafeteria. He starts off when Dick makes a comment about the exuberant price for the room he rented on Monday night.

“Why on Earth did you stay in a hotel? You could have crashed at my place,” Wally says with a frown

 “And take up your couch? You know that’s exactly what I'm trying to avoid,” Dick mumbles.

“I don't mind giving you my bed for a night or two,” Wally continues.

“I am not going to chase you out of your own bed, West. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“We could at least have shared.”

The simple offer carries no heavy implication with it, and for that, Dick is immensely grateful. Wally is such a breath of fresh air, as easy-going as Dick even. They might even be on the same wavelength, given the conversation they’d had about three weeks ago, after their fourth hookup. After enjoying a night and an early morning in Wally’s room, they also indulged themselves in the kitchen a few days later, and twice in one of the on-call rooms. While Wally made him feel _good,_ it was after their third rendezvous and their laughter during sex that Dick realized being with Wally was even more enjoyable when they weren’t having sex.

He’d brought it up after their last time in the on-call room, been surprised when Wally merely nodded and grinned. _You’re amazing, Grayson, but I agree I'd rather marathon shows with you instead of having marathon sex. Want to come over this weekend to binge eat more hot Cheetos?_

Dick feels blessed to have Wally in his life, and the offer only makes the feeling grow even more.

“What were you even doing over there?” Wally asks, making him blink and realize he’s been staring at his thermos while lost in his thoughts.

“Huh?” he asks.

“The East End. It’s Opal’s richest part of town. What were you doing there?”

Visiting a friend. Rekindling an old flame. Reliving his time with the man he once… loved.

“I—” he begins, but Wally cuts him off, brightening. “Oh, you’re moving somewhere over there! Is that why you’ve had to save up so much money and why you haven´t moved out of the party house? Your new home is a fancy and spacious apartment?”

“What? No! A lease contract over there costs like two human sacrifices plus a dozen chickens.”

“Then why _were_ you there?”

“Dick.”

He hears his name being called a second before a shadow looms over their table. He looks up, unsurprised, to find Bruce standing over him, scrub hat still on, his body tense.

“Yeah?” he says.

Bruce’s eyes flick to Wally, then back to Dick. “Talked to your chief nurse. Said you haven´t left the hospital since yesterday and have already scheduled more than enough shifts to make up for the weekend.”

“I told you I could figure it out on my own.”

“And I told you it was no problem for me to talk to her.”

Dick sighs. “Fine. Thanks. Are we good to go, then?”

Bruce gives a nod so stiff Dick winces. He’s tense, much more than usual, and when Dick glances at his hands, he notices them fisted tight enough that his knuckles are white.

“A tough one?” he asks.

Bruce freezes. His eyes skid to Wally a second time, then at a random spot on the closest wall. “It turned out well.”

“Of course it did. You were in the room.” His attempt at humor falls flat, but it doesn't bother him. He merely picks up his thermos, weighs how much coffee it’s left in it, then hands it over to Bruce.

“It only has a bit of cream,” he informs.

Relief flutters across Bruce’s face. He takes the thermos “I'll return it as soon as I can.”

“Don't worry about it,” Dick says to Bruce’s already retreating back. Once Bruce stalks out of the cafeteria, he turns to Wally, who raises both eyebrows at him.

“You know Dr. Wayne.” It isn't a question.

“Who doesn't around here?”

Wally ignores his comment. “He’s also a gothamite, isn´t he? I’m guessing you worked in the same place back in Gotham too?”

“Don't tell me you’re another one of those residents that wants the head honchos to notice them any way possible.”

“Hey, we’re not even in the same department. I’m just curious. From what I’ve heard since last year, Wayne is somewhat of an… urban legend around here.”

“More like he's the center of the juiciest gossip.”

Wally stops to think for a second, then a slow and dangerous smile spreads across his lips. “I’ve seen you join in on the gossip. Sometimes you look like you’re enjoying it, but other times you look way too shocked for the reaction to be genuine. I’m guessing that’s when you’re hearing things about Wayne… that you can either confirm or deny.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re assuming this.”

“Assuming what, exactly? That you know Wayne?” Dick frowns, sputters, and Wally pumps his fist into the air, triumphant.

“If you’re going to start grilling me…” Dick warns.

“I’m not. I told you, I'm just curious.”

Dick swallows hard. He stays quiet, hopes Wally will let it go. He doesn't. His big green eyes seem to be scrutinizing Dick, trying to pick apart every single movement and reaction. It’s annoying.

Dick feels tired enough to cave and be spared more intensity.

“He was my professor,” he starts with a sigh. “Freshman year at college. He taught intro to Physio and Intro to Physio’s lab. He also taught another couple of courses in senior year, but by the time I became a junior he’d gone back to teaching freshmen only.” Dick finds no need to mention or explain that by his junior year Bruce had gone back to teaching only freshmen for two reasons. One: to avoid possible headaches, in case anyone besides Bruce’s closest friend found out he’d already been sleeping with Dick for nearly a year. Second: Bruce didn’t shine in the classroom nearly as much as he did in the OR, but until another teacher applied and was approved for the position, he couldn’t stop teaching.

Dick still has a lot of memories from those days. He recalls his first interactions with Bruce, how terrible they’d been. He also recalls the first time they’d actually talked. In the middle of the night, in a coffee shop in campus, because how much more cliché could the situation be. He also remembers how he and Bruce had danced around each other – he was the one who did most of the dancing, now that he thinks about it – for nearly a year before Dick kissed him and Bruce took him to his apartment.

“And that’s it?” Wally asks, incredulous. “He was your professor for a year and you were… what? A star pupil? Family? Come on, Grayson, the little interaction you just had doesn't happen between a regular teacher and a student. You guys must be pretty close.”

Dick shrugs. “When I got my first job at Gotham General, he was already there. We saw each other every now and then in the halls. Like you said, we’re not even in the same departments. We worked in the same hospital for nearly a year before he moved here to Opal.”

Wally rocks back in his chair, crosses his arms. “So you were his student for a year, worked with him for nearly another year, you’ve been here a bit over three months and the two of you are already making plans and he talked to your chief nurse for some reason. Oh, not to mention you gave him your thermos out of the blue, and he looked like you’d just saved him.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” No. Not even close. It’s more like he’s known Bruce since he was nineteen, was in a relationship with him for three, almost four years, and then Bruce had moved to Opal, only to have Dick move to Opal as well two years later. Not that Dick’s decision had anything to do with seeing Bruce again, but he can admit to the bitter irony of finding himself working on Bruce’s same hospital again and meeting outside of business hours.

Wally’s expression doesn't give anything but skepticism away. He rocks back in his chair, then throws his hands into the air. “Fine. I said I wasn’t going to grill you, and it isn't any of my business, but just so you know. You’re terrible with cover stories.” He gets to his feet, rolls his eyes at Dick. “I can give you a course on improvisation if you want. Maybe you can do better next time I ask you.”

Dick sticks his tongue out at him. A course on improvisation. As if he needs one. Dick didn’t lie to him, or make something up. He simply refused to tell the whole story. No one needs to know the details, and they’re all memories Dick thinks are better off tucked away. Not forgotten, never that, because it’s not like Dick regrets anything between him and Bruce. He’s just learned a lot. He’s grown, he’s had a lot of time to think about what he wants. Most importantly, he's gained understanding about what he wants, with who, and when.

Feeling exhausted, Dick gets to his feet, rubs his forehead. Focus, he has to focus. A few more hours, then he can go home, sleep a bit, pack his bag and come back for another twenty-four-hours shift. He’s got this.

He doesn't feel like he's got it when he walks out of the hospital later that night. The wall of heat is stifling the moment he steps out of the hospital, makes each step heavier, slower. Gotham isn't like this. Gotham lives in a state of near permanent fall-winter, and he’d lived in Gotham his whole life. While it had been easy to adapt to the warm spring, summer is turning out to be a slow, choking, bothersome torture.

Most of his roommates are out of the house when he gets home, which is a miracle unto itself. He goes straight for the shower, then collapses into the stupid couch. He feels tired enough that he has a decent night of sleep. The heat doesn't keep him awake, and neither do his raucous roommates.  

The next morning, he fires off a text to Wally. After receiving a confirmative answer, Dick takes out his canvas bag. He packs an extra set of clothes and toiletries for the weekend, his phone charger plus one or two books. He also gets his one good suit out of the broom closet on the hall, breathes a sigh of relief when he finds it still in its bag.

By the time he arrives at Wally’s apartment, his stomach is growling. Wally greets him with a smile and the delicious smell of takeout breakfast.

Wally waits until Dick is munching on his sausage muffin to go in for the kill. “So. How long were you and Wayne together?”

Dick is saved from choking by the skin of his teeth. It’s not that he's surprised Wally figured it out, more like he didn’t quite expect him to be so direct about it. He swallows, reaches for his orange juice.

Wally´s eyes glitter devilishly as he eats his mini hash browns. He looks like he could wait an entire day for an answer.

Oh well. What the hell.

“Three years. Almost four,” Dick says eventually.

“Since college.”

“Yeah.”

“And it continued when you started working at…?”

“Gotham General.”

“Right.” He motions for Dick to go on.

Dick goes back to eating. “It didn’t start when we met at Gotham General gain. We were together since my sophomore year, took some months off in my senior year. That’s when he started dating someone else, and afterwards, we saw each other only when he was taking a break from Rachel.”

“Rachel?”

“Selina Kyle. They have taken so many ‘breaks’ that the name seemed absolutely necessary.”

Wally’s face dawns with realization, and he burst out laughing. “Nice,” he says. “Are they taking a break now?” Dick nods. “So you’re back together?”

 “I’ve gone to his place twice since running into him in the hospital halls, and I'm going with him this weekend to the biomedical gala at Metropolis, but…” Dick shrugs. “We’ll never be back together.”

“You strike me as a romantic, but that isn’t very romantic.”

This time, Dick is the one that bursts out laughing. “I am. Quite the sappy one, but not right now. That’s why I’m so glad you and I could talk and we can be here right now. I have a job that I love, heavy as it is, I moved to a new town and I'm so close to getting my own place, which hopefully I'll be able to buy and not just rent.” He winks at Wally. “I like sex, I like you, but I honestly have no energy left to, you know…”

“Pursue a serious relationship and all the serious emotional stuff?” Wally finishes.

“ _Exactly_.”

Wally nearly howls at the vehemence that one word carries and at Dick’s energetic nod. He holds up his own cup of juice. Dick presses it against his, and they share a laugh before Wally sobers up again. “So… never, huh?”

“Your curiosity is so annoying.”

“… Never, never?”

Dick lets out a groan. “Yes. Never. We’ve run our course, or rather, I have.” Figuring that doesn't make much sense to Wally, Dick explains a bit more, “Not going to lie to you. I loved that man for the longest time. It’s no longer the case.”

“How come?”

Dick thinks about it for a while. “I grew tired of waiting for an ‘I love you too’ instead of a ‘hmm’, By the time he was the one who said it first , I was the one who couldn´t, and didn’t want to reply,” he says. He doesn't add anything else, and Wally drops it, bless his mischievous little heart.

Dick spends the rest of the morning in Wally’s apartment, leaves for the hospital around noon.

It’s around ten that night when Bruce appears at the nurses’ station in his ward, the thermos between his hands.

Dick barely glances up from the forms he’s filling. “Hey.”

“Thank you for the coffee. I needed it.”

“No problem.” Dick nods to a free spot on the counter. “You can leave it over there. Let me know if you ever need another cup of the Grayson blend.”

Bruce leaves the thermos in the pointed spot. He frowns, sighs. “The lack of sugar makes it effective. The cream softens the bitter flavor you detest.”

Dick gives a lop-sided smile. “I see you still remember.”

“It is quite the… unique blend. Difficult to forget.”

“That was the whole point, to make it unforgettable. That and making sure I didn’t faint in the middle of class or a shift… or both… again.”

A low and brief chuckle reaches his ears. This time, Dick looks up, surprised. He finds Bruce hiding a laugh with a cough. He blinks, then he goes back to his forms. “And here I thought you’d forgotten those two horrible incidents.”

“It is challenging to forget objects or situations where you are involved.”

“Oh, was that an attempt at flirting? Has Rachel’s attitude finally rubbed off on you?”

This time, Bruce can´t hide his amusement. “You’re impossible.”

Dick finishes with the forms, puts them under the table. He salutes Bruce with the pen. “I do my best. Did you want something, by the way?”

Bruce hesitates. “You’re not leaving tonight.”

“Nope. My shift ends tomorrow afternoon. I hope that’s okay with you?”

“You shouldn’t have taken two full-day shifts in a row.”

“It’s fine. I’ve got my clothes here and I figured I could sleep on the road. It’s okay with you?”

He purses his lips. “It is. I will pick you up tomorrow, in that case.”

“Excellent.” Dick comes from around the table, glances around. Noticing the place is empty, he presses his lips to Bruce’s.  His plan is to keep it light and chaste. Bruce, however, ends up placing his hands on his waist and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Dick is caught off-guard, but he relaxes soon enough, returns the kiss. He pulls back only when he hears voices coming down the hall. Bruce lets him go without a fight.

“See you tomorrow,” Dick says, voice hoarser than before. He meets Bruce’s conflicted eyes, sees the many thoughts brimming in them that will never be voiced… and he turns around, picks new charts from the counter. He saunters down the hall to check on his newest patient. He glances back once. Bruce is still standing there, rubbing his forehead. The two nurses he´d heard earlier are frozen a few steps behind. They’re probably wondering why the head of neurosurgery is nursing a headache in the middle of the hall.

Dick opens the door to one of the rooms and steps inside. It’s time Bruce fills his weekly quota of human interaction and problem solving.

By the time Dick comes out of the room, Bruce is gone. Hoping things went well, Dick joins the nurses gathered around the station and listens as the theories as to why Bruce was there start flying.

The night goes by quickly. He goes to the cafeteria for an extra speedy breakfast, assists Dr. Thompkins in labor, and before he knows it, he’s on his way to the locker rooms,

He’s changed into regular clothing and is on his way to the parking lot when his phone pings. It’s a message from Bruce, the first one since Gotham.

_Glad you haven´t changed your number. I am in the parking lot already. My usual car._

“Black and extremely overpriced Maserati with silver undertones, got it,” Dick mutters to himself.

Wally is waiting for him at the entrance of the hospital, leaning against the railing on the sides. He straightens when Dick barrels through the door.

“Hey, Walls,” Dick greets.

Wally smiles, waves. “A really expensive car just pulled into the parking lot. I’m assuming it’s Wayne’s special car?”

“One of the many. He has even crazier ones.”

“Of course he does.” Wally rolls his eyes.

They stay silent. Dick sways on the balls of his feet. “Did you come here to say goodbye? It’s really nice of you, but it wasn’t—”

“Have fun, all right?” Wally interrupts. He places a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “And keep on being carefree and independent.”

Dick blinks, frowns. He mulls the words over in his mind for a good couple of minutes, then shakes his head. “I told you. It’s over between us, and there’s no going back.”

“It’s not that I don't trust you or that I’m jealous. You’re the only close friend I’ve made here, and I admit I am a bit worried. For someone you’re over, you certainly moved your life around to do him this favor.”

“I know.” Wally seems ready to protest, but Dick holds up a hand. “Honestly, West. I know what I'm doing. I chose to do this, and I’d do the same for you if you asked me.”

“I’m not your ex and the one you have a heavy history with. This is straight out of a romance novel or something like that, Dick. How are you so sure you’re not going to end up head over heels when the weekend is over?”

Dick opens his mouth to reply. Before he can, he hears his name being called. He and Wally both turn to find Bruce waiting at the bottom of the entrance steps, hands tucked into the pocket of his slacks, frown visible above his sleek sunglasses. The sun reflects on Bruce’s perfectly combed hair, the shades, and his skin glows with the bright red shirt rolled up to his elbows. Bruce Wayne in casual clothing. What a miracle. What a sight.

Dick can admit to how attractive Bruce looks, how he’d like to get him out of that shirt later. Otherwise, he is unmoved, unbothered. Admitting it makes him sad, yet fills him with even more certainty than before.

“I told you. I’ve run my course with him, and it’s not one I plan on taking again,” he says.

“What if he does?” Wally insists.

 “It’s too late for anything but mindless fun, West,” Dick sentences. He waves goodbye, walks down the stairs. He greets Bruce with a smile, gets a kiss on the cheek in return. Bruce lingers there, almost as if he wants to turn his head that small inch for their lips to meet. He doesn't, and Dick doesn't feel the need to move his head. He doesn't feel like trying, or caring.

Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Medical details are probably not exactly accurate, hope I'm not burnt for that xD. Also, I hope the story flowed and made sense. This was actually the fic I wanted to write the most when I first thought of this series. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!


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